


the sun is coming up

by spacewars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/F, Way to many references to Icarus and Apollo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewars/pseuds/spacewars
Summary: She’s not afraid.But she can’t lose Luna, not like this. And she manages to sit in the passenger sit next to her, with red glowing around her and a fire in her chest with the need to press her head out the window and watch the red of her hair tangle in the wind, and hear Luna laughing along with a song, and hear everything and every part of her that tells her, that She loves Luna, so much, so much that’s she’s burning from it.





	the sun is coming up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, This started as a Drabble and Ended in a Full Fledge Fic. Everyone here is Eighteen and in College. Luna and Ginny are sharing a dorm and decide to go on a road trip planned by Luna.

The first time they stop, it's beside a road, and the air is humid and warm, and it reminds her of the barn back home. But there are no roosters, and the last cut she got on her knees from running during volleyball practice is already turning pink and healing. And besides it's Luna, not her brother who tells them to stop, points to something on the side of the road, and grins, “Do you know how to make a flower crown Ginny?”

 No, she doesn’t but she knows how to make brownies from scratch using Luna’s recipes and she knows how to make a hoop on the other side of the court, and how to get a goal in football by going unnoticed. But she doesn’t know flowers, so she shakes her head.

And Luna smiles, unbuckles the belt and pushes open the car door with a push of her shoulders blades and Ginny does the same, the sun beating on her face. “I used to do it back home, when it was dark out, and act like I was a fairy queen.” Luna covers the sun with her hands, and Ginny looks away from how it weaves into her hair. “It’s not dark out anymore, and I don’t suppose a fairy queen really exist does it?”

And Ginny stares at the clouds, and the tree’s and the grass, and thinks about her and Luna, "I suppose anything could exist really.”

And Luna frowns, stops at the patch of flowers and twirls a single blade between her hands.”I sure hope so,”

 

* * *

 

Turns out making a flower crown is so much harder than it seemed, and Ginny tries it three times before she thinks about giving up and placing it back in the grass where it belongs. But Luna is good at it, really good at it, and sitting on a dusted road, with leaves and flowers, (and what Ginny thinks are daisies ) is making her ache with something that burns, and hurts, like a thousand stars exploding.

“Would you like this one,?”

Luna places one in her hands, and it's all red, all burning red, and Ginny’s throat closes, and Luna looks at her softly, and adds, “I made this one for you. Really.”

And Ginny smiles, wills her heart to calm down, (because no, Luna doesn’t think about her in that way, hell Ginny’s not even sure she thinks about her ) and goes, “That’s very Sweet, Luna Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I think this would be very nice on you,” Luna says, and she’s smiling, the one where only one side is tilted, and it looks like the entire world is lopsided and Ginny is falling, falling so hard, and so close to the ground. But their only glasses, and it's Ginny here with wings made of feathers, not Luna.“The colors complement your skin.”

“Thank you, Luna. That’s very sweet.” And the glasses are cool to the touch, and nothing like the heat of Luna’s skin when their hand brushes against each other. Their red, and bright, and on the side there's a fire, all drawn to stick to its edges. She blinks when she puts them on her eyes and smiles when the world is as red as her hair.

“You should buy them, you look very pretty.”

And she flushes, so hard and so quick that it spreads from her forehead to her cheeks in a matter to the shoes whose hole is showing, and shoe sole is breaking in a matter of seconds, and she smiles and says. “You are too Luna,”

And Luna smiles harder, and their just their in an old glasses shop smiling, and Ginny’s flying too close to the sun, she feels it, the heat on her back, and everywhere else. She’s burning, but she’s fine, she is okay, she is perfect, really.  
She never asks where they're going, it just feels nice to go along and belong somewhere where there are not whispers about her brother’s leftovers and odd hair. It feels nice, great even, and Luna helps that, she helps that far too much then Ginny could fathom.

It's weird, and it's not because Luna is a girl because she likes Girls, really, honestly, she does. But it's Luna, and she’s the sun, and Ginny not afraid to burn, she’s not afraid to put every piece of her in Luna’s hand like some child with a new toy. She’s not afraid to get bruised, their tattered (but this is Luna, her Luna and there's not a place in the universe where that might happen).

She’s not afraid.

But she can’t lose Luna, not like this. And she manages to sit in the passenger seat next to her, with red glowing around her and a fire in her chest with the need to press her head out the window and watch the red of her hair tangle in the wind, and hear Luna laughing along with a song, and hear everything and every part of her that tells her, that She loves Luna, so much, so much that’s she’s burning from it.

* * *

There's someone poking her, right in between her ribcage and her breast and Ginny frowns, and hides her face deeper in the leather jacket. There's someone talking, like a bee in her ear and she thinks about swatting it away before she realizes how much the edge of her back hurts.

This is no bed, and there's no sun, there are no brothers, laughing in her ear.

This is not home, but not her dorm either.

“I think we should get a room, Ginny.”

And it sounds like music, like her mother singing while making pancakes, and her father’s inventions, and her brother's laughter, and there's longing in her chest, so hard it makes her ache. Mostly it's for her family, and everything else in the world, (even the dirt barn) and it startles her to find that Luna is there, all smiles and laughter, Luna.

She rubs her eyes, and stretches, careful not to knock her fingers against the windowpane. It's dark out, enough that the only light between them is the soundless radio, it bathes everything blue, even her hair, and Luna’s shirt. It feels as if she’s a constellation, just mindlessly drifting by. “I could drive if you want?” She offers, and Luna frowns,

“No, no, It's alright, really. It's rather dark out, and I would like a bed to sleep on.”

And Ginny nods. She could use a bath and a goodnight’s rest.

* * *

 

It's not hard for them to find a motel, actually, it's just a matter of going off the interstate before they find a small bed and breakfast on the side of the road. Luna calls it, Pretty when she parks the car and tosses their shared bookbag on her shoulders, and Ginny stuffs her hands in her pockets and says she can't really say that she sees the charm in the place.

It's all slanted and rusted and its painted, yellow, a bright ugly yellow like the crayon she used to use for the sun and all the window is boarded up, and the sign, Icarus and Apollo Inn hints to so much more than its hole in its parking lot and tripping rocks in its pathways.

And Ginny hates it the first time she sees it. But they need somewhere to sleep, and think, and dream in someplace that’s not in a cramped car with empty bottles of Starbucks coffee, and Dunkin Donut wrappers. So she doesn’t complain, and tells Luna to go ahead, and grab the keys to their room, and that she gonna go ahead and make sure everything important is out of the car.

And it's just a mindless sweep, nothing more, before Luna texts her the door number and she’s holding their shared iPod in a bright red room with only one bed.

“They ran out of rooms.” Luna says, when Ginny places everything in her hands on the dresser, and fidgets with her hands nervously when Ginny picks up an old magazine with a woman's face on it, she’s smiling and happy, and on the cover with big bold letters, its words are clear, How to catch the one you love. “We can always keep driving.”

“It’s alright,” And she pauses, because perhaps being this close to someone who smells like cookies, and chocolate, and strawberry shampoo, and waking up to Luna on the other side of the bed, smiling and laughing and telling her about the constellations even if they are covered by shabby walls, happening here isn’t the way she imagined it, or even thought of it. “It’s only for one night.” She reprimands, because it is, and she scared of what would happen if it isn’t

“Are you sure?” Luna nudges and Ginny smiles,

“Yes, I’m positive it will be alright.” (Because she doesn’t run away from problems that she is not afraid of.)

“Okay.”

“Your freckles remind me of constellations.” And Ginny flushes and checks the clock beside her, it's 2 but it feels as if it's 12 and she turns to the other side where there's Luna glowing like she belongs to the moon, and the sun, and the stars and everything else in between. She’s staring at her, eyes open and wide, and all Ginny could think was how happy Icarus had been to burn.

“Does it?” She whispers because talking would be too loud, and this moment needs to silent. Like the Stars. And Luna nods, and traces the spot of freckles right underneath her eyes, her hands are so soft and warm, and light and Ginny’s eyes flutter close before she can stop them.

“Or flowers,” Luna adds, “they look they can look like flowers.”

And Ginny smiles, “What flower are you tracing right now?”

Luna’s silent but her hands don't stop moving, and her breathing is lulling Ginny to sleep now. And even though the sheets are scratching her newly shaved legs, and the summer heat is just now beating the fan over them, it feels like she’s been in the bed forever, and ever, and ever, and the sun is burning her core now, and she can touch the ground, and apollo’s hand, and-

“An Aster,” Luna replies, “I'm tracing an Aster.”

* * *

 

Their on the move, before the sun even touches the top of the building, Luna wakes up before her, goes to the land lord lady, and hands back the keys, and Ginny doesn’t really feel awake, until Luna sits behind the wheel, and rolls the windows down and hands her an almost empty cartoon of five hour energy.

It's been five days, and really, six nights and Ginny still gags at the bitter taste of it going down her lungs (but she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t want to sleep, she doesn’t want to imagine the crows, and her brothers red hair, and her mother's warm hugs, she wants to stay awake with Luna, always Luna)

Luna watches her from the corner of her eyes, and grin, tapping her finger on the wheel. “I really love this song,” She says all the sudden, and her eyes are bright and loud when Ginny blinks, brushing her fingers to the edge of her ipod.

“You do?” Ginny asks, and Luna nods, her face bobbing. No cars are passing by them, to early in the morning for wandering souls to find themselves on the road, and Luna pulls the car into a drawl, the dawn setting a soft glow on the car, and butterflies on the edge of her glasses.

“Mhm,” Luna pauses, and darts her eyes across to Ginny, “When I was younger, I used to close my mind, and imagine what the story the music was trying to tell.”

Ginny can’t bring herself to breathe because she knows what she thinks about when she hears the song, she knows what comes to her head, what betrays every self-evident wall Ginny brought herself to bring and if Luna thinks it, if Luna knows, then Ginny has so little space left to fall, and nowhere to land.

 “What about now?”

She shrugs, and goes back to the road, “Now I do it in my words.”

* * *

 

They don’t need to say it, but the words hang in the air, with the presence of not leaving, Tonight they would sleep among the stars, Tonight they will burn, and extinguish any taste of freedom they had before they returned back to an empty dorm and waiting teachers. Tonight will feel like the last, and Tonight Ginny’s wings will burn till she had no more.

Needless to say, Ginny wasn’t anywhere near ready.

Luna park's them in a lot, and it's empty, and when Ginny looks at her, she shrugs and says something about it closing down ages ago. “It used to be a Candle Factory,” She explains, brushing her hair out of her face and Ginny grins, the five-hour energy in her mouth, bitter.

“Did it burn down?” She asks, and Luna pops the open part of the trunk open, and shakes her head, “No, “ She responded, “No, they just left, went to do bigger and greater things,”

“Oh.”

Luna smiled, and patted the seat next to her, wild flowers stuck to her ear from the various pit stops along the highway, and when Ginny plopped down beside her, letting the moon wash over her face, and the stars glisten where the car stands and Ginny thinks, If I was Apollo I’d put Luna in the Stars, I’ll put her there forever.

And Luna because she’s Luna tighten her resolve that the flames within her will not burn, will not be on fire, will never not be Ginny and Luna when she places her head on the crock of her shoulderblades and leans further. “I know you miss your home and your brothers, but sometimes we have to be the factory and leave, do bigger and greater things.”

Ginny swallows the lump in her throat and Luna continues,

“And sometimes all we leave behind is empty parking lots, with a rundown building and the smell of burning tar. But other times we leave with flower crowns and hotel rooms. Sometimes it's just the mindless chance we have to take.”  
Luna frowns, and wrings her hands together, “I guess that’s why I planned it, Ginny. Because of Yeah, we leave and sometimes we might not get what we want, but the stars are there, and the moon is here and the memories are there. “

And Luna breathes, “I am here,”

And Ginny stops breathing, for a second, then another and another. And the Stars are staring back them, waiting patiently for Ginny to do something, to live and to let live. And she turns, and Luna is looking at her, eyes wide, and soft, and

Fuck it, Let’s set the entire world in flames.

She finds out that Luna doesn’t kiss with teeth but rather with the meat of her lips, and with a soft curve of a tongue. There are flames, and her wings are glistening, burning and it's going everywhere, touching everything. Their hands are awkward, and okay, maybe they're moving too quickly against each other.

But this?

She couldn’t trade the world and the stars for this.

_Hell, she’d burn the world for this._

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr at [@blacksiruis](http://starrynights.co.vu/%20)


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